A New Threat
by Arithmea
Summary: Twenty five years have passed and the children of the First Circle have their own fight to win. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Castes and Jewel Ranks

**Male Castes**

Blood Male: Refers to any Blood male who does not wear Jewels. A Blood Male can perform basic Craft but cannot reach the level of the Jewels. Blood Males are not guaranteed a Jewel at their Birthright Ceremony as other castes are; they can receive any Birthright color of Jewel though. A Blood Male can also try again to receive a Jewel, once he is older, by making the Offering to the Darkness. The darkest Jewel a Blood Male without a Birthright Jewel can receive

at the Offering is Yellow. If a Blood Male does receive a Jewel, he becomes a Warlord, if not he remains a Blood Male. They very rarely rise to the "killing edge" and never experience rut. Blood male (with a low case "m" in male) is also a general term for all males of the Blood. The need to serve has been bred into Blood males since the dawn of their time. They cannot be emotionally whole with

out it. A strong love-bond can ease the hunger for service; all Blood males need one or the other. All males of the Blood (whether they wear Jewels or not) can serve Coven or Court, or enter into personal service. A strong Jeweled Blood male may rule territory in the absence of a Queen, or in service to his Queen.

Warlord: A Warlord is any Jeweled male who does not belong to the other

hierarchical levels, equal in status to a witch. Warlords are born Blood Males and become Warlords once they receive their Jewel. They rise to the Killing Edge only when greatly provoked and go into rut only a few times in their lifetime.

Prince: A Jeweled male equal in status with Healers and Priestesses, one step lower than a Black Widow, one step higher than Witches and Warlords. A Prince is born into his caste, and thus is guaranteed a Jewel, but not what strength the Jewel may be. He must go through the Birthright ceremony and make the Offering

to the Darkness to receive his Jewel. Princes are more aggressive and

territorial than Warlords are, and are thus quicker to anger and rise to the Killing Edge. They experience the rut once or twice a decade.

Warlord Prince: A Jeweled male higher in status than a Black Widow, but lower than a Queen. Warlord Princes are the highest ranked, and also most rare, male caste. A Warlord Prince is born into his caste, and thus is guaranteed a Jewel, but not what strength the Jewel may be. He must go through the Birthright ceremony and make the Offering to the Darkness to receive his Jewel. The most territorial and sexual males of the Blood, they are extremely aggressive and dangerous. Warlord Princes have the strongest need to bond in service and/or love-bond. They rise to the Killing Edge quickly, easily and without warning.

Warlord Princes go into rut once or twice a year. A strong Warlord Prince can rule a territory in the absence of a Queen.

**Female Castes**

Blood Female: Mostly refers to any Blood female who doesnâ€™t wear Jewels. Blood Females can do all basic Craft but cannot reach the level of the Jewels. Blood Females are not guaranteed a Jewel at their Birthright Ceremony as other castes

are; they can receive any Birthright color of Jewel though. A Blood Female can also try again to receive a Jewel, once she is older, by making the Offering to the Darkness. The darkest Jewel a Blood female with no Birthright Jewel can receive at the Offering is Yellow. If a Blood Female does receive a Jewel, she becomes a witch. If not she remains a Blood Female. Blood Females can serve

Coven or Court, or enter into personal service. Also a general term for all females of the Blood, used as Blood female rather than Blood Female.

Witch: A Blood female who wears Jewels but isnâ€™t a member of the other hierarchical levels. This can also refer to any Jeweled female. A witch is born a Blood Female and becomes a witch once she receives a Jewel, either at her Birthright Ceremony or Offering to the Darkness. A witch will sometimes specialize in a particular side of the Craft such as hearth or garden. Witches can serve in Covens (such as the Coven of the Hourglass, the "Guilds" within the Realms) or Courts, or enter into personal service.

Healer: A witch who tends physical wounds and illnesses, born with the

instincts to comfort and heal. They are higher in status than a witch or Warlord, equal to Priestesses and Princes. Healers have the strongest ties to the Body. They are the doctors, nurses, midwives, and even veterinarians in Blood society. Healers are highly respected amongst the Blood for they will often sacrifice their own health/safety to heal others. Healers can serve Covens or Courts, or enter into personal service, though often they will set up a practice of their own. All Healers must have at least one Jeweled male in

personal service to her, in order to ensure her safety and protection.

Priestess: A witch who cares for altars, Sanctuaries, and Dark Altars; they are the most spiritual of the female castes, leading the celebrations during holidays and ceremonies. Equal in status with Healers and Princes, Priestesses have the strongest ties to the Self or Soul. A Priestess witnesses handfasts and marriages, performs funeral rites and offerings, and provides spiritual counsel for her community. Every Priestess can serve in an Altar, Coven, or Court, or

enter into personal service. All Priestesses must have at least one Jeweled male in personal service to her, in order to ensure her safety and protection.

Black Widow: A witch who heals the mind, weaves the tangled webs of dreams and visions, and is trained in illusions and poisons. Black Widows are considered to be the most dangerous and sexual of the Blood female castes. Equal in status to none, Black Widows answer only to Queens, Warlord Princes, and other Black Widows of a darker Jewel rank. Black Widows have the strongest ties to the Mind and the Twisted Kingdom. Although a Black Widow is apparent at birth, and they

may show some signs in childhood, they do not truly have the Craft or physical traits of a Black Widow until the onset of puberty. Such traits are increased empathy, lucid or prophetic dreaming, the snake tooth under the right ring finger along with the ability to naturally produce venom, immunity to many poisons and venom, and a slight change in physic scent. Every Black Widow must train and serve at her territory's Coven of the Hourglass; she can also serve in

a Court or enter into personal service, or have a private practice. All Black Widows must have at least one Jeweled male in personal service to her, in order to ensure her safety and protection. A strong Black Widow can rule territory in the absence of a Queen.

Queen: A witch who rules the Blood. She is considered to be the land's heart and the Blood's moral center; she is the focal point of their society. They are the highest ranked females and most rare of all the castes. Queens tend to the land, being the only ones who have the Craft to heal the land after it has been damaged or tainted. They have the strongest ties to the Land/Earth and the Blood itself. Queens are born with the instinct to protect their land, territory, and

people. All Queens must have at least one Jeweled male in personal service to her in order to ensure her safety and protection. A Queen's very strength, psychic scent, and nature will draw strong males to her, from which she chooses her court. A Queen may serve in anotherâ€™s Court, and this is common for light Jeweled Queens. Also, young and strong Queens may serve in another's to gain experience. To make a claim to rule a territory, a Queen must have a Court consisting of at least 12 Blood males, made the Offering to the Darkness, and be

of at least 20 years of age. To confirm the position, a majority of the other ruling Queens in that Territory must acknowledge her. If a Queen challenges another or more than one Queen vie for the same throne, a general election is held. A Queen can rule a Township, District, Province, or Territory. They may as well hold a small, independent, non-ruling court.

**Jewels**

The colours of the Jewels are, in ascending order:

White

Yellow

Tiger Eye

Rose

Summer-sky

Purple Dusk

Opal

Note: Opal is the dividing line between darker and lighter jewels because it can be either. It also has two kinds, Blood Opal and Light Opal.

Green

Sapphire

Red

Gray

Ebon-gray

Black

**Ebony **

**Twilight's Dawn **

Note: Only Jaenelle will ever wear the bolded jewels. I may be a crazed fan-girl, but I'm not _totally_ insane.


	2. Happy Birthday Omrah!

**Discalimer:** I do not own any of the members of the Frst Circle, their children (minus two), and quite a few other characters _do_ belong to me. Everyone not belonging to me belongs to the wonderful Anne Bishop. Without her, this story wouldn't be possible.

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It had been 18 years since she'd been born. She woke up to sun peeping through her bedroom window. She got up with a sigh and looked around her room. It was pink, everything was pink. Pink and frilly. Quite frankly, she hated it.

Her mother's name was Jaenelle, she was Witch. Her father was Daemon. He had once been known as the Sadist, but she hadn't known until recently why he'd been named that. After hearing the stories, she decided it had been an apt name.

She turned her thoughts away that for today. After all, it was a bright and sunny day. And it was her 18th birthday. Thinking this, she smiled. Of course, thinking of her birthday made her remember about Laurent her twin. Her smile faded and a grimace took over her features. She had to get him up now.

She sighed and slid out of bed. She took a quick shower and turned to the full length mirror in her room. The sun glinted off her birthright jewel. It was the Red. It was in a simple silver setting, making it all the more noticeable. Next, she looked at her body. She was about 5' 4" and 120 pounds. She had a full figured body with generous curves and jet black hair that fell to the back of her knees. Her eyes were emerald green. Her skin had a slight tan, making it look as though she always had glowing skin. In short, she was certain she was ugly.

Her whole life people had been telling her she was beautiful, but she was convinced it was because they were being nice. _How can they possibly call me beautiful and mean it? I mean, look at my hair. It's just straight and hangs around my face. My eyes make me seem so out of place, and my skin always seems so... so blah. And my body. I'm just a skinny little nothing with nothing to work with._

_  
_She fussed with her hair for awhile. After about half an hour she sighed and admitted defeat. She just brushed and braided it like she always did. The only thing she did differently today was to add clips to her hair. The clips were wolves wrought in silver, with attention to every detail. The eyes were hard chips of emerald and it seemed as if the wolves watched people with cold amusement.

Omrah adored the clips. They were a gift from her father, one of the few pieces of 'jewelry' he'd ever bought her. Next she put on a dress. One of the few she owned. It was emerald green, the same shade as her eys and as the stones in her clips. The dress was slinky and fit her like a second skin. Her mother had given it to her at the same time her father gave her the clips. Her father gave the dress one look and said, "I hope that's a new dress for you darling. If Omrah leaves her room in that, I'll have to kill every man that looks her way." Her mother had just laughed and slapped him playfully. That was that in her mother's mind.

Omrah smiled as she remembered the argument that followed later that night. Things were broken and bruised, mostly it was her father's pride. In the end, Omrah got to keep the dress.

A small giggle escaped her lips, startling her out of her reverie. She looked at herself in the mirror. She might not feel like the beautiful vixen people called her, but she'd be damned if she couldn't play the part. She put an air of confidence around herself and put on a self-confideni smirk to complete the look.

She walked to the door, swinging her hips, opend it, and walked into the hall. She walked down the hall to her brother's room and walked right in. She walked up to his canopied bed and thought about pouncing on him, remembering her dress a second before she did so. She settled for pulling open the curtains on the window and then throwing the heavy curtains of his bed open. Laurent groaned and rolled over.

"Oh come on Laurent. You have to get up."

"Says who, you?"

She gave her brother a glare and growled at him. He always did that to her, it was the most maddening thing he could ever do.

"Fine, I'll just go downstairs with Alane myself then."

That did the trick. He was up out of bed and in the bathroom as soon as she'd finished speaking. Omrah let out a laugh. A deep, throaty, musical sound. She got her voice from her mother. She looked at the direction her brother had flown and shook her head.

She walked out of his room and downstairs. She really was going to see Alane, with or without him. Alane was the daughter of Gabrielle and Chaosti. She was a year younger than Laurent and Omrah, but she was one of the few who could stand to be around the two of them at the same time. Thinking along these lines, Omrah walked into Saetan's study and knew she'd find Alane there, browsing the books that lined the walls. At the sound of her footsteps, Alane turned around.

Alane was about 5'3" with straight, silver hair. She had a beautiful face, the kind of face men dreamed about, and the body to go with it. The most noticeable feature she had though, were her eyes. They were typical of her race, big and blue. It gave her the look of innocence that could put people at ease with her in a second. She was not as innocent as she looked though. She could be as ruthless as anyone else. She also happened to be a Queen and Healer. Her birthright was Sapphire, so she had the strength to back her up when her words weren't enough.

"Omrah!", Alane said surprised. "I thought you guys were still sleeping. I told Uncle Saetan that if you guys didn't get up soon, I was going to dunk you guys in the fountain."

Omrah grinned, "Oh really. How would you manage that one?"

"Well, I'd have to dunk you guys one at a time, and it would tire me out, but at least you'd be up. Besides, it would liven this place up. Everyone seems to be sleeping still."

Omrah let out another musical laugh. She hustled Alane out the door and toward the dining hall. It was only an hour past sunrise, but Alane must have conveniently forgotten that.

At this time, the hall was empty but there was still food that could be rustled up if you were hungry enough. Omrah had to practice soon anyway, so she abstained from eating more than toast and orange juice. Alane just chattered away about this and that happily.

Omrah sat straight up and cursed. "I forgot about practice today! I have to go change." Alane giggled and followed Omrah out and up the stairs.

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**AN:** Well that's it for chapter one. Please R&R to let me know if you'd like me to continue the story. Any review is welcome, even flames and criticism. Hopefully I'll see you in chapter two.


	3. Meeting Omrah's Kindred Companion

**Disclaimer:** I'm not going to write one of these _every_ chapter. Consider it officially disclaimed. I do not own any of the older characters, nor do I own the places. Names/characters you aren't familiar with are mine. Everything else is solely owned by the wonderful, creative, and awesome Anne Bishop.

**A/N:** For some reason, my asterisks don't show up, so everything that's said on threads will be italicised, just like thoughts. Sorry for that.

I do _not_ usually update this quick. I'm a slow writer. Not only that, but I'm sick right now so I'm bound to be even slower. Please put up with my slowness v.v

**Neka1(the chic geek)**: Thank you for reviewing, you are the only one that did v.v It's not that she _can't_ use Craft to do her hair, it's just that she _doesn't_. She doesn't like to be lazy with simple things like that. Other things however...

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As Omrah and Alane raced up the stairs, Laurent came out of his bedroom, fixing his suit and generally not paying attention to his surroundings. Omrah, being herself, was the same. She slammed into him and they landed in a pile on the floor.

"Ow. What the hell hit me?"

"I believe the question is why did you run into me?"

"Oh Laurent! Why are you always in the way! Can't you see I have to get changed to spar with Uncle Lucivar? Speaking of sparring, why are you in a suit? Aren't you practicing today?"

"How about you get off of me and we can have this conversation vertically, like normal people."

With this said, he slid his sister off of his lap and stood up. He brushed the imaginary dust off his pants and readjusted the jacket of his suit. Omrah stood up gracelessly and huffed at him.

"Well, fine. Say hello to Alane first though. Honestly, you have no manners."

At the mention of her name, Alane stopped her giggling, neither had realized she'd been laughing at them since they'd collided. Laurent glared at his sister and turned around to look at Alane, his gaze dropped quickly to the ground and a bit of crimson spread across his cheeks. Alane reacted the same way, causing Omrah to huff. She pulled Alane's hand and started to walk around her brother towards her room.

They were halfway there when Laurent called out to them, causing the two to stop and turn around.

"I didn't answer you yet!"

He walked quickly to the both of them, looking his sister in the face and angling his body away from Alane. He didn't want Alane to know the kind of effect she had on him so he was trying his hardest to keep her from finding out, making it all that much easier to see. Omrah ignored the feelings emanating from her sibling.

"You were saying Laurent?"

"Father is taking me to Amdarh today, for our birthday. That's why I'm not dressed for practice. As a part of the gift, I'm allowed to bring one other, and sister, before you get your hopes up, I'm not allowed to take you. Sorry, Father's orders. I was actually thinking of asking Lady Alane here to accompany us."

He turned to Alane, his ice-blue eyes hopeful. Alane blushed and glanced away. Omrah huffed, the two of them were completely infatuated with one another but were too scared to admit it. She poked her friend in the ribs, hard, startling an answer from her.

"I-I'd love to go with you. Just let me change real quick all right? I'll meet you in the kitchen."

Laurent looked relieved and Alane looked pleased. Omrah looked slightly ill. She wanted her best friend and her brother to be together, but to have them out here making googly eyes at one another was more than she could handle.

"Thanks for the news and I guess I'll see you later Laurent. Alane, let's go."

Alane followed, in a dreamlike state, frequently looking back at Laurent with a smile on her lips. Omrah left her love struck friend in front of the armoire in Alane's room, hoping she'd snap out of it soon enough to pay attention to what she was doing.

Omrah left the room quickly, if she didn't move fast Uncle Lucivar would come get her, something she wanted to avoid. He'd come looking for her once a few years ago. Before she'd known what had happened, she was in the fountain in her garden. She had emerged sputtering and spitting mad. Uncle Lucivar had just glared at her and reminded her to never be late for practice again. So far, she hadn't, but she wasn't so sure about today.

She took a left at the end of the corridor and walked straight to the end of that one to reach her room. From the other side, she felt waves of terror and a stabbing sadness.

_Mother Night,_ she thought, _I left Vivere alone. She has to be terrified by now._

Omrah opened the door to find a wolf lying on the ground whining. Her whines were full of pain and despair, of a loss so deep it burns the soul. Omrah knelt on the ground next to the wolf.

_Little Sister_, Omrah said on a distaff Opal thread, _why are you so upset? I did not leave, I just went downstairs for a bit._

A scared feminine voice replied. _I had feared you left me._

_Dear heart, I could never leave you. You know that I can't leave you like your pack did._

When Vivere was a pup, her pack had been hunted. Vivere had survived only because her fur was the same color as snow, reflecting the same amount of light and not giving her position away to the hunters that had slaughtered her pack.

The pack had fought bravely to save Vivere and the other pups, trying to get them on the Winds, those psychic roadways in the Darkness, but one hunter had a Sapphire jewel, just one rank darker than the Queen's Green. With his Sapphire jewel, he had trapped all of the Kindred wolves and slaughtered them.

Luckily, the hunters had been in Witch's Realm and were subject to her law. They claimed the Kindred were no different than other animals, except that their fur had more value. The receiving room had to be repainted before the room could be reused. You did not anger Kaeleer's Heart.

But, that night had scarred Vivere. She'd watched her family murdered in front of her eyes. She'd never play with her brothers and sisters again, never see her mother or father. She was locked with grief within herself.

She hated the fact she'd been spared and had asked for death. Her plea fell on deaf ears, no more Kindred would be needlessly killed. Especially after her Birthright Ceremony when she walked away with an Opal jewel and it was clean she was a Queen with the strength to form a strong Court. So, until she was old enough to form her Court, she'd been placed in the care of Omrah.

Omrah was a Black Widow/Queen. She sensed the heartache of the lonely pup and had made a tangled web for her. She had let the pup relive the pain of that night, had let the pup see it was a good thing for her to have survived. Omrah had drained the poison from the wound and now, two years later, the pup will still trying to finish what Omrah had begun.

It had been a long and painful road. At first Omrah hadn't been allowed out of the pup's sight. She'd whine and curl on the floor, waves of pain making all of the residents uncomfortable, regardless of the jewel they wore.

They had finally progressed to the point that Vivere didn't always have to be with Omrah. As long as Vivere knew Omrah would be coming back, Omrah could leave for days and Vivere would be fine.

But this morning, Omrah didn't wake Vivere or leave her any kind of sign she'd be returning. The wolf had assumed something had happened to her caretaker and that that she was all alone again.

Omrah tried her best to soothe her Sister. Vivere was only an adolescent wolf, two and a half years old. Sure, this equated to about fourteen human years, but still not that old. Old enough to still need and want reassurance from those she loved.

Usually Ladvarian and Kaelas would calm her down when Omrah left like this in the morning, but the two were currently with Jaenelle on her tour of the Territories. This left Omrah with a distressed adolescent Opal jeweled Queen. This morning wasn't going to be good.

Omrah began to sing a song in the Old Tongue. Almost immediately Vivere calmed down. The Kindred always acted this way when they heard the Old Tongue, though most of them didn't understand any of the words, it spoke to them on a level their human Brothers and Sisters couldn't understand.

It was the song Omrah had sung while making the tangled web for Vivere, the song she sang when she made any poison or potion, or spun any tangled web. Everyone that knew her just dubbed it 'Omrah's Work Song'. It was much more than that, but nobody knew just how much more, not even Omrah herself. All she knew was that she'd been born knowing this song, it was as much a part of her as her other gifts. And she used it the best way she knew how.

The wolf stopped whining and began to breathe more evenly. Soon she was breathing deeply, asleep. She was in a healing sleep. Not the same sleep a Healer would use, but the sleep a Black Widow used to heal a wounded mind.

Vivere would sleep until she forgot the pain and distress this morning caused her. Omrah felt bad, it was almost as bad as wiping her memory. The only reason it was different was because, once the wolf's mind was whole, memories like these would resurface slowly. Thank the Darkness for that kindness.

Omrah got off the floor and stretched. She hated doing that to Vivere, but it was all she could do. She left a little bubble of a thought right outside Vivere's Barriers. _I haven't gone anywhere dear heart. I've just gone out for practice. When you wake up, come down to the field and play._

Omrah knelt down and pat the silken head of the troubled wolf on the floor. She sighed and stood back up. She turned to her armoire and opened the doors.

She slid out of her emerald green dress reluctantly, letting it pool around her feet. She picked it up carefully and hung it back up in its proper place. She pulled out a dark brown tunic and a matching pair of leggings. She took her under things out from one of the drawers and put them on carefully. She hated practicing with Uncle Lucivar. He made her _work_. Even on her birthday.

She pulled the tunic over her head quickly, the pants getting the same treatment shortly after. She brushed her hair again, taking out the delicate clips and placing them back on her vanity. She put her hair in a tight braid. She then wound her braid up until it became a bun.

She pulled a pair of soft shoes from the bottom of her armoire and put them on. She closed the doors to her armoire and walked out of her room, throwing a quick glance at the sleeping wolf. Omrah used Craft to float Vivere onto the bed, her usual sleeping spot. She smiled quickly at her charge and slipped out of the room quietly.

She had to hurry now if she wanted to get to practice on time. Uncle Lucivar didn't accept any excuses. Never mind that Laurent was making a move on her best friend, that her wolf had suffered a mental relapse, that it was her birthday. None of it mattered to Uncle Lucivar. She picked up the pace until she was literally running. It was bad enough she had to practice today. If she was much later, Lucivar would make her spar with him. And that was something she did _not_ want to do this morning. Everything else would seem easy compared to having him as a sparring partner.

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Next chapter: Sparring with Lucivar? Or maybe someone else...

**A/N:** Alright, I know this is kind of getting lame, and you probably don't want to read any more of my chapters v.v I promise Alane and Laurent aren't always like that, but they _are_ teenagers experiencing first love. A plot will begin to emerge within the next few chapters.

I made a few changes to chapter one, mostly to Alane's appearane. I had confuzzled her parents with the parents of another character that should show up next chapter, thereby _totally_ taking away her Dea al Mon heritage. It will never happen again, I swear, please forgive me v.v I also changed Omrah's Jewel, forgot you can't get anything below a Red for a Birthright .'

And something I know someone is bound to say, if not now in later chapters, during the Purge Jaenelle _did_ get rid of all the tainted Blood, but it's been about 25 years since then. Tainted people have been born and some (children at the time) aren't as innocent as they were.


	4. Sparring

**Diclaimed**

**A/N:** In this chapter, a few more characters will be introduced. Daemonar makes an appearance, plus a special character whom I don't wish to reveal just yet. You'll have to continue reading to find out .

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Omrah ran out toward the courtyard, desperate to not be late to practice. She tucked her arms to her sides, lowered her head, concentrated on her breathing to keep from getting stitches in her sides... and ran into something hard yet soft. Something that wasn't thrilled she'd hit it.

Opening her eyes, she realized she'd run headlong into someone who wasn't going to just let her apologize and get to practice on time. She sighed resignedly and turned hopeful eyes on her cousin Daemonar.

"Daemonar _please_ just let me get to practice. If I don't get there in the next few minutes Uncle Lucivar will come looking for me. I've already had an eventful morning and I could do without a visit from him. Please?"

Daemonar picked up the towel he'd dropped when his younger cousin had barreled into him. He wiped the sweat from his chest and placed the towel around his neck. He opened and closed his wings thoughtfully for a moment before replying to Omrah.

"Today _is_ your birthday after all... I 'll let it go today, but keep your eyes open when you run. Now get moving or you'll have Father for a sparring partner."

Omrah grinned at her cousin. Usually he'd try to detain her so she'd be late. He said it was good practice, you never knew when an attacker would try the same things he did. She had to admit, grudgingly, that he made sense. But she'd never admit that to him.

She took off running down the hall again, keeping her head up and eyes open. She couldn't afford to trip or run into anyone else.

"Thank you Daemonar," she yelled back over her shoulder. "I'll see you at the party tonight!"

She made it out to the courtyard a few minutes later. When she got to the practice yard, she stopped, bent over, put her hands on her knees and tried to slow her heartbeat and catch her breath.

"I'm... here... Uncle... Lu...ci...var." She gasped out before dropping to her knees on the ground.

"I was going to come looking for you in a few minutes Omrah. What kept you _this_ morning?"

She made some gasping and wheezing noises, throwing in a few unintelligable sounds for good measure.

"The usual morning chaos. You're getting here quicker. If nothing else the chaos has improved your running. Now, get up. It's time to spar."

He gave her a toothy grin that reminded her of Kaelas right before he attacked some poor defenseless creature. It was a good thing she was already on the ground, she would have fallen if she'd been standing.

At just that moment, another straggler walked sedately into the practice yard. Omrah felt relief as that smile and penetrating gaze moved from her to the other late comer. She felt bad for whoever it was. Uncle Lucivar was pretty scary when he wanted to be.

She cursed Laurent for being free of this torment. She cursed Father for not taking her to Armdarh too. She cursed males in general. Today was _definitely_ not going to be a good day.

As she caught her breath, an annoyingly familiar psychic scent washed over her. It came from the other late comer.

_Mother Night and may the Darkness be merciful. Not __**him. **__**Anyone**__ but him._

_**Him**_ happened to be a Red jeweled Warlord Prince. Adonar. He teased her mercilessly whenever he had the chance. He was seven years older than her, but since he was of one of the long lived races, his maturity hadn't kicked in yet.

He was the son of Surreal and Falonar, conceived during a night of passionate goodbye sex the couple had had before Falonar went to chase after the quiet Healer of the Eyrie. So while his parents weren't together when he was born, or even the time his mother had been pregnant with him, they loved him just the same.

He was 5'10, muscled but not overly so, with the tan skin and black hair common to the long lived races. What marked him as different was his eyes and that he noticeably lacked wings. His eyes were same mixture of gold and green as his mother.

Unlike his parents, he had no real interest in fighting or anything like it. He would much rather while away the hours in the Keep's Library, or even the library of the Hall. He was fascinated with books. Especially with learning about the landens, since not much seemed to be known about them. The way they lived without Jewels or Craft astounded him. And if you asked him about landens, you could be bored to death in fifteen minutes flat.

Omrah took one last steadying breath before getting up. Her legs felt a bit wobbly but she was sure she could stand long enough to give a passing attempt at sparring today. At least, she hoped she could.

Adonar smiled back pleasantly at Lucivar. _I knew I shouldn't have rolled back over in bed this morning,_ he thought. _Oh well, too late now. I get to spar with Lucivar. Again. Joyous._

Lucivar's toothy grin disappeared, only to be replaced by a genuine smile.

"I have an idea. Rather than the both of you getting your asses kicked by me this morning, spar with each other. Whoever wins get to skip the rest of today's practice. The loser however, gets to stay twice as long. Grab your sticks and have at it."

He threw two sticks into the bare ground between the pair. The two looked at him as if he were nuts, not totally believing what he'd said. As the moments ticked by, they began to realize he wasn't kidding. Omrah sized up Adonar, he was bigger than her, and most definitely stronger. She wore a darker Jewel but that gave her no advantage with the sticks. She didn't think she could win, but she sure as hell wasn't going to go out without a fight.

Adonar looked at the girl. Shorter than him for sure, but he knew she had to have some muscle on her. Her small stature lent her agility and probably a fair amount of speed. His Jewel was lighter, but the Jewel you wore made no difference, not with practice sparring at least. He knew she had a chance of knocking him on his ass, and if she managed to do that... she was either really good, or he was a disgrace to every male in every Realm.

The two bent to pick up the sticks Lucivar had thrown between them. Adonar stepped to the center of the practice circle, motioning Omrah to do the same. She thought he was doing it out of arrogance so she growled and began circling him.

She jumped at him quickly, her stick raised to come down on his head. Adonar raised his stick, the crack of wood sharp. He smiled at her, she snarled. Stepping back from one another, they resumed circling, each looking for a weakness.

Omrah feignted to the left, trying to force him into leaving an opening. They circled one another, launching an attack whenever they could. Circle, thrust, clash, back away. They continued the savage dance for several minutes. The both of them were sweating, but they were graceful dancers.

No matter how hard she tried, or how violent the attack, she couldn't break through his defenses. She was beginning to tire, her arms felt heavy, sluggish. If it went on too much longer, she'd have to give in, work twice as hard at everything else today. The thought made her groan. She looked at him. _At least he's sweating almost as hard as I am, I'm not completely inept._

Just then, she saw an opening. He'd picked his stick up too far, leaving his feet wide open. She grinned triumphantly as she brought down her own stick, catching him at the ankle, knocking him on his butt on the ground.

She stood up, called in a towel, and wiped the sweat from her face before it could sting her eyes. She offered Adonar a hand, pulling him back to his feet. She called in another towel for him, giving him a wicked smile.

"I guess I'm out for today. Have fun Adonar."

Adonar acknowledged her with a slight nod before turning his back on her, rubbing the sweat off of his chest. He walked to Luvicar who was wiping a barely concealed grin from his face.

"All right Omrah, get out of here. Me and Adonar have some training to do."

Omrah left the practice circle, placing the practice stick back with the others. On the edge of the courtyard, Vivere sat patiently waiting. The two hurried off, leaving the males to their devices.

Once they were out of earshot, Lucivar turned to Adonar.

"Why did you let her win?"

Adonar looked at Lucivar and decided the truth would work better than the lie he'd been working on.

"It _is_ her birthday, and I've been worried about her lately. She doesn't look like she's been eating or sleeping enough. If she doesn't stop doing so much and rest soon, I'm going to throttle her."

Lucivar looked at Adonar critically. It sounded as if, beneath the usual male concern for a female's well-being, there was more. If it was any other witch, Lucivar would have been amused. But this was his _niece_. He was not amused with the affection in the other Warlord Prince's voice.

He had to tell Saetan what was going on with the children now. There had been bets as to who the parents thought the children would be with. But none of them had ever foreseen Omrah and Adonar. At least, not since a ten year old Adonar had tricked a three year old Omrah into walking into a cave. Omrah hadn't forgiven him for the tricks he'd played on her in the dark. She'd gotten him back a few years later when she'd had her Birthright Ceremony and came away wearing the Red. He'd stopped his pranks then.

"Adonar, you're free today too. Go on now, go."

Adonar didn't have to be told twice. He vanished the towel, placed the stick back carefully, and walked off in the direction of the Hall's library. He had a book left out from when he realized he was late for practice. He wanted to get back to it. It was a detailed account of the myths landens believed, and it was fascinating.

Lucivar watched the young man walk away carefully. There was strength in him, strength he didn't realize he had. Lucivar would adjust his routine accordingly. But now, he had to tell his father that the years for bets were over. The children were beginning to notice one another. And it terrified him

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**A/N:** Please review. This will be the last chapter until I have more reviews. I want to know if this story is even good enough to bother continue writing. So please, be good and let me know what you think. I'll read your reviews, and if there's anything you need/want clarified/want to know, I'll tell you (Unless telling you will give away the plot). This is my first non-oneshot, and only the second story I've felt was good enough to post here. Let me know your thoughts. Okay, I'm done nagging/begging now .


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